


Lifted

by tinknevertalks



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 1902, Biting, Blood Drinking, Episode Tag - Awakening, Episode Tag - Normandy, F/M, Plot What Plot, Porn Battle, Smut, Vampire Play, Vampire Sex, actually a bit of angst gets in there, pwp?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Helen and Nikola always seem to find the broken elevator, but that's ok. They find a way to while away the time.





	1. The Hotel

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> This has sort of run away from me. Unbeta'd, so if you find any tense problems, or someone has an extra hand or something weird, just lemme know. But yeah, I have an utter weakness for stuck in a lift fics, especially smutty ones, so when I saw this prompt, I knew I had to grab it.
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **Prompt:**  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _They get stuck in an elevator. Probably his fault. She doesn't mind that much though._
> 
>  
> 
> So I hope you enjoy. Mature content (obvs). Lemme know what you think! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a delightful dinner discussing explosives, Helen fancies dessert.

_New York, 1902._

Bathed in decadent, golden light, Helen couldn’t mistake the desire in his eyes, or the way he kissed her knuckles, assuming her walking to the lift was his cue to leave. There's surprise when she didn’t let go of his hand, melting to understanding when she pulled him in after her, her lips on his the moment the door shut. Backed up against the wall, between kisses, moans, licks, groans, the tearing of skirts, breathless gasps, a popped button (or two), he held her there, one hand on her thigh as he thrust into her warmth, the other by her waist, flush against the wallpapered plaster. 

Slower than was sensible, he drew her pleasure out, neither noticing the lift stopping or the cabin going dark. All she noticed, all she cared about, was the rhythmic motion of their hips, the fleeting moments of pressure against her clit, his grin when she tried to speed things up, tried to grind her aching nub of nerves against him, his teeth on her earlobe, his thumb, “Fina--!” Gasping as electricity danced, literally, over her flesh.

A chanting of positive affirmation as he pushed her closer to the edge, her nails clawing at his back as the molten warmth in her belly changed to explosive shards, his own groan, moments later, his forehead dropping gently against hers, harsh pants blending as they littered little kisses anywhere they could reach. “Wha--?”

She quietened his questions with another kiss. “Stay with me the night.” That’s when they noticed the lift, but feeling him twitch inside her stopped her line of inquiry. The lift didn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Was that our Helen or prime!Helen?


	2. The War Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their own way of dealing with their demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you get mood whiplash, I'm sorry. That's where this one took me. Again, any glaring mistakes, lemme know so I can fix. Hope you like. :)

_The War Office, 1944_

She was finally back; tired, grey, but brimming with an unidentifiable energy as they walked to the elevator, hoping young Winston wouldn't begrudge his favourite doctor a quick joyride. Nikola had been there when she, James and Nigel explained the events of Carentan, then watched as Nigel melted into the background and James stalked out of the room, stiff limbed and stiff upper lipped. But Helen? Swan like in almost every way during the meeting, her voice only faltered as she recounted their encounter with John.

No ding, just doors opening to signify the elevator's arrival. Together they crossed the threshold, Helen's cool skin brushing against Nikola's unusually warm hand.

They talked, Nikola going into detail about his young spy, Helen nodding along.

The elevator stopped. The light went out. In the suffocating darkness he heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her cool fingertips against his wrist, holding him in place. “What’s happened?” Her _now_ was silent.

“Problem with the generator?” he suggested, pressing the only buttons available to him. “I can get us out,” he offered, arcing a tiny bolt of lightning between his fingers.

In the darkness, she shook her head. “Doesn't matter. We're unlikely to…” She trailed off, leaving them alone in the blanket of darkness, his only music her heartbeat thudding in her chest. 

Slowly, he touched her cheek, both glad and disheartened that his thumb didn't have a tear to wipe away. “He--”

“Kiss me,” she demanded quietly, her voice sure and confident. “Like you did in Egypt.”

Needing no further invitation, he stepped into her space and willingly did as asked, his lips descending onto hers - hungry, insistent, demanding - provoking moans and hair tugs with each touch and caress of his tongue against hers. His fingers luxuriated in her hair, holding her as fantasy became reality again.

“More,” she groaned, dragging him by the lapels as she walked backwards, her body thudding against the wall, his caging her in place, one hand still in her tresses, the other gently clenching her waist. When her hands grabbed his hips, he nipped her lower lip, smirking as her hips rolled against his. “Tease.”

Humming as he kissed her jaw, each kiss he bestowed moved him closer to her ear. “Be proud, I learnt from the best.” Her neck became his next target, nips, licks, sucking at her pulse point, her blood pounding tantalisingly under her skin against his lips. She needed more, her dragged nails down his back his favourite indication.

In a blink, he wrapped her legs around his hips but her hands stilled, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Gazing up into her eyes, he recognised that haunted look, knowing through years of friendship ( _being lovers_ ) how she chased the demons away. Slowly, he moved his hips, caressing her warmth through the layers they couldn't divest, a simulacrum of making love.

Minutes felt like hours, the air molasses thick as they watched each other, slow grinding, silent save a few guttural half gasps. Too soon, she closed her eyes, empty bliss stealing across her features, tears escaping as her breath returned. 

Blindly, holding her tight with one arm, Nikola carried her to the elevator's button control, murmuring the calming words his mother would use as he shocked the lift back to life. What Helen needed now was tea, bed, and (he was loathed to admit this) the others, the four of them together, until she could safely sleep the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea at all if the War Office even had an elevator, but for the purposes of fic, it does now.


	3. East Africa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's very happy Nikola's the last _sanguine vampiris_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last four tags are for this chapter. (I should probably add blood drinking too.) If you aren't a fan of vampire!Nikola being all vampire-y during sex, this might not be for you.
> 
> Otherwise, usual disclaimer: any mistakes, or an extra limb that randomly turns up, are mine, lemme know if I need to fix anything. :)

_East Africa, 2011_

Another building, another broken lift, but what did it matter when Nikola's lips are on her neck and his fingers are deep inside her, his thumb brushing her clit as he licks her pulse. Every part of her is on fire, and he's crooning each one of his lascivious thoughts, revelling in each breathy gasp he pulls from her lips, her wetness coating his fingers as his other hand strokes her waist. “If I didn't know better,” he murmurs, his vampiric tang back in his tone, “I'd say you were pleased you revamped me.”

She tries rolling her eyes but stops part way when he finds that special spot. “In your dreams,” finally stutters out of her mouth, her hands firmly tugging on his hair, trying vainly to get his lips back on hers, moaning despondently when his fingers leave her body.

“In _your_ dreams, maybe.” He smirks, holding those teasing fingers up. Not breaking eye contact, she leans forward, boldly licking herself off his fingers, smirking at his strangled groan. His erection, still in his trousers, grinds against her heat as she gives his fingers the attention they deserve, winking when she catches his eye again, grinning evilly when he moans her name, hips following her hand as she strokes his length, playing with and pulling down his zip. When he starts pleading in Serbian, she stops, head resting back against the wall.

“Payback,” she explains, moving her hips against him, trying not to rub too wantonly lest he thinks he’s regained the upper hand.

His eyes change, blue to black to blue, his fangs grow and what used to scare her sends bolts of desire to her core. He smirks again, his fingers trailing down her body back to where she really wants them, huffing when his hands go to her backside instead, breath catching when he fills her. Her moans are louder as he tugs her hair, offering himself her neck to debauch, her back arching as she hisses a sybillant, “Yes!” when his teeth (blunt, familiar, human) rubs along her carotid artery.

“Should I bite you, Helen? Mark you as mine? I've wanted to for years, every time I see your neck.” Each word has that sharp twang again, stoking the fire in her lower abdomen. “Should I bite you here,” he kisses where he's nipped, “or here,” his hand toying with her nipple in time to him squeezing her buttock, “or here?” he whispers, vampire talon brushing (awkwardly) along her inner thigh, teeth sharp against her neck as his thumb resumes its onslaught on her clit.

Panting, all she can breathe out as she offers her neck is, “There, there, there,” almost crying when he chuckles darkly, vampire nails gently scratching her arse cheeks, fangs lightly resting against her skin. Her own nails drag down his back, clawing to get him closer, seeing stars when he finally - _Finally!_ \- bites down hard, drinking her blood as it sings with her orgasm.

She eventually floats back down to her body to Nikola licking her wound, his hips stilled momentarily. Flexing her inner muscles, she watches the pained pleasure dance across his brow, how he grits his teeth as he grabs her hips and, “Oh goodness!” (almost sung to him) when he begins anew. His movements are much more fluid now, chasing his own pleasure. All Helen can do is grin and hold on, egging him on with her moans, licks to his ear, hard bites on his neck, rough whispered words breathed in rhythm to his thrusts.

His fangs sink in again as he comes, vampire nails digging in to her flesh, her pleasure/pain receptors overloading with sensation, sending her spiralling once more. Boneless, momentarily exhausted, his forehead rests on her shoulder, turning to kiss where he'd bitten so hard. “Ugh, sorry about that,” he murmurs between kisses. 

“Nothing to apologise for,” she pants, stroking the back of his head. “Maybe not quite so hard next time.”

“There'll be a next time?” he asks, perking up, looking into her eyes.

She doesn't answer, but captures his lips with her own. “You figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Huh. Maybe there's an elevator in the new Sanctuary ~~that needs christening~~ that accidentally ~~on purpose~~ breaks down... Because there's always a next time with these two...)


End file.
